Lay Me Down
by Hyaenaa
Summary: Penguins and puffins both chose mates for life. They had chosen each other, and they had chosen at the worst of times. NSFW


**Lay Me Down**

* * *

_Deny this emptiness_

_This hole that I'm inside_

_These tears_

_They tell their own story_

* * *

They might die the next day.

Hans didn't really care much about that, though. Sure, he wanted to live. He was a coward, something he'd been told a million times over, but what he wanted more than he wanted life itself was eternal existence beside Skipper.

Skipper was simultaneously the best and worst person Hans ever had the fortune of becoming acquainted with. He was beautiful. Unconventionally so, but that didn't deter Hans. Skipper was an icy eyed commando, a bird that stuck to his ideologies and principles. He was strong, courageous, fearless, powerful, and inclined to justice. He was everything that Hans was not, and Hans admired him endlessly.

Hans was… Messed up. He had issues, beyond his control. Chemical imbalances never to be righted, past traumas never to be spoken of. He was cruel and apathetic. He was a miscreant, a thief, a criminal... He didn't deserve to be in Skipper's presence, he was disgusting and worthless. And yet Skipper looked at him like he trusted him with all of his soul - something Hans would never understand. He couldn't handle it, it was too much.

His heart ached and surged as the two of them settled into an empty hotel room. Their commanding officer had booked it under a human's name so that no one would disturb them for the night. In this manner, they could get some rest before infiltrating the Denmark embassy.

Pink, silken sheets were layered upon an extravagant cushion. Soft, spongy pillows lined the top of the king-sized bed. Hans looked over it with a growing sense of discontent. The two of them had been involved in some heavy smoke earlier that day and had only escaped capture by crawling through mud. He wasn't particularly keen on the idea of soiling these expensive sheets, and judging by the way Skipper looked apprehensive, he mirrored this awkward feeling.

The penguin then piped up with an awkward chuckle. "Well, we could probably use a bath. It would do us some good, wouldn't it?"

Hans sent him an uncertain glance. "Ah, would that be okay with you?"

Skipper looked back at him, and smiled with such reassurance that it destroyed Hans even more. He was going to have to break Skipper tomorrow, ruin his entire life by using him as a scapegoat.

The bathroom walls were the same light-pink that matched the sheets, but with subtle gold lining every square inch. The tiles were a pristine white, marred by the ashes on their feet when they entered. Inside there was a large crimson tub, definitely more than enough for the two of them. It had multiple controls. Skipper was mildly befuddled by them, but Hans was tech-savvy enough to figure them out. In no time, a hot, steamy bath was filling their tub.

They both entered with hesitance. Skipper was an aquatic bird, meant for swimming under-water, so it was probably a bit weird to simply sit in it. Hans, on the other hand, was meant to practically live on the sea, so it was only slightly eccentric for him to enjoy a hot bath. His trepidation was mostly that he still felt as though he didn't deserve to be in Skipper's presence.

Skipper settled into the water with a sigh, and began to scrub himself down. Hans watched dully, deeply entranced by the water as it sunk down through the penguin's feathers, the way that the steam wafted up from his exhausted body with every movement. He was so perfect, and Hans had never been jealous of water droplets before, but they were clinging to Skipper's body and Hans wished that he had that ability. He absentmindedly rubbed the soot away from his own feathers, but kept his gaze focused on his mission partner.

Soon enough, Skipper caught onto his staring, but only regarded it with a tender grin. "Hey, Hans, you wouldn't mind getting my back for me, would you? I can't reach."

Hans felt faint, but he nodded and shifted forth. He grabbed the rose-scented soap from the side and held his breath when Skipper turned around. It was another example of Skipper's unending trust, forced into Hans' face once more, if only to mock his ulterior motives and his romantic feelings in one shot. He had obligations of his own, reasons for his actions, and he tried to convince himself that betraying Skipper was okay, that it was a necessary evil. It didn't alleviate the pain.

He began to rub the soap down over Skipper's back feathers. The soap suds appeared quickly, a fancy aroma simmering up with the steam. Skipper made an almost suggestive sighing sound as he relaxed against Hans' touch, and the puffin only felt all the more guilty, especially since this was only making him feel more passionate. After a little while of scrubbing, Skipper eventually turned around and rinsed himself off by diving into the water. When he resurfaced, he offered Hans another smile.

"Want me to return the favor?" His voice carried across the room, even though it was only just above a whisper.

Hans nodded before he could stop himself.

Skipper was against him in instants, rubbing the soap against Hans' back with excited fervor. Hans couldn't help himself; he breathed out shuddering groans as his muscles relaxed and exploded with pleasure against the feeling of Skipper's movements. Only an inch or so of soap was between Skipper's wings and Hans' own body, and that was enough to make him clamp his beak shut for fear that he'd moan out loud otherwise.

Skipper slowed his movements to a stop, and ever so gently, he tilted Hans so that the puffin was facing him. He was close, all too close, enough so that it made Hans hate himself even more because he really wanted to kiss Skipper right then.

To make matters worse, Skipper seemed to want the same thing. He leaned in, earnestly, his eyes shimmering with vulnerable excitement. With his head tilted to the side, he closed in, and their beaks clacked together with the utmost gentility. Hans gasped, and before he knew it, he had his wings wrapped around Skipper, bringing him as close as he could be.

They moaned against each other, and Skipper was embracing him, passionate as he slipped his tongue into Hans' beak with urgency. They kissed for a little while like mammals might. It was strange, lipless, but they made it work, and nothing could stop them with the amount of love they felt for each other by then. Hans was pulling Skipper in as close as he could be, their little legs tangled, feathers against feathers.

Nothing mattered at that moment. No allegiances, no plans, no missions. Just them.

Hans and Skipper pulled themselves out of the bath in excitement, both more interested in moving to the bed. They wrapped themselves up in the egyptian cotton towels, laughing gleefully as they practically danced their way to the bed. They managed to go from soaking to damp before they both flounced onto the perfectly folded sheets, surrounding themselves in the thick luxurious blankets.

They rolled around, hugging and kissing and necking and laughing. They were so, so very in love, and Hans didn't care about anything else in the world except for Skipper. He kissed him, on his neck and on his chest and on his belly and even lower, delving between his cute little legs and against his cloaca. He was extra careful with the sensitive area, cautious enough that he only used his tongue against it. Skipper's moans were more than worth his patience; he cried out here and there, flippers digging into the once perfect sheets when Hans pushed his tongue inside.

Skipper eventually scooped Hans up altogether and pressed their chests together before mounting him. The cloacal kiss was something neither of them had experienced in the past, but it felt so perfect, so right, so intense. Their cloacas rubbed together, twitching and shooting sparks of sexually gratifying heat through their bodies. Hans was practically screaming by then, moaning and sobbing between it all because he knew that this would be the best moment of his life and he would never get it back.

Penguins and puffins both chose mates for life. They had chosen each other, and they had chosen at the worst of times.

When they finally both orgasmed, their virile cum splattered over each other and the sheets. Skipper held Hans close, tucking the two of them beneath the comforter with a soft sigh of contentment. He had no idea that he'd just mated with the puffin that had to betray him within the next twenty four hours, and Hans had never hated himself more. Once Skipper drifted off into a satisfied sleep, Hans wept.

He hoped he would die the next day.


End file.
